An old poem

I came across this poem about 12 years ago during a period of my life when things were not going well, it amused me. All this time has passed and it still amuses me.

I PICTURE MYSELF NEAR A STREAM

BIRDS ARE SINGING IN THE COOL CRISP MOUNTAIN AIR,

NOTHING CAN BOTHER ME HERE, NO ONE KNOWS MY SECRET PLACE.

I AM IN TOTAL SECLUSION,

THE SOOTHING SOUND OF A GENTLE WATERFALL FILLS THE AIR WITH A CASCADE OF SERENITY

I CAN EASILY MAKE OUT THE FACE OF THE PERSON I AM HOLDING UNDER THE WATER

A philosophy professor

This has been doing the rounds for many years, i like it because it makes sense. 

A philosophy professor stood before his class with some items in front of him. When class began, wordlessly he picked up a large empty jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks about 2" in diameter.

Then he asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar of rocks. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the spaces between the rocks. The students laughed.

He asked his students again if the jar was full. They said yes, it was. The professor then picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else.

“Now,” said the professor, “I want you to recognize that this is your life.

The rocks are the important things - your family, your partner, your health, your children - anything that is so important to you that if it were to be lost, you would be nearly destroyed.

The pebbles are the other things in life that matter, but on a smaller scale. They are things like your job, your house, your car.

The sand is everything else - the small stuff.

If you put the sand or the pebbles into the jar first, there is no room for the rocks. The same goes for your life.

If you spend all your energy and time on the small stuff, material things, you will never have room for the things that are truly most important.

Pay attention to the things that are critical in your life. Play with your children. Take your partner out dancing.

There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, give a dinner party and fix the car.

Take care of the rocks first - the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just pebbles and sand.”

A Home Run

I am lucky enough to work close to home, in a straight line its only 4.5 miles, however i also live on the edge of the West Pennines moors. Having missed my Sunday run i decided to make tonight's Home Run a little more worth while.

Windmills on Knowl Moor

Windmills on Knowl Moor - again

Green Booth Reservoir

The Track to Waughs Well

Lee Quarry

15 Miles and plenty of smiles, i am very lucky to live around here, there is so much good running.

Norfolk running

Norfolk is extremely flat; i spent a week there and didn’t see any hills what so ever, however the country side is stunning.

The thing about running on flat paths and roads is - no rest, running up hill is hard but you get to have a rest when you are running back down again. 14 miles on perfectly flat tracks turns out to be a hard slog.

Home for a week

Country Lane

Wind farm in Eat Somerton

West Somerton

The Post Office - Winterton-on-Sea

The Beach at Winterton-on-Sea

The Sea at Winterton-on-Sea

Watching

The Welsh 3000's

The Welsh 3000,s are all the summits in Wales that are over 3000 feet.

The welsh 3000s were a spur of the moment thing, i spent evening printing route maps and having done most of the summits many times i was quietly confident of a good day out.

The weather forecast predicted fair weather overnight and through the morning to lunch, with cloud and rain coming in during the afternoon. With this in mind i set off up Snowdon on the miners path at 5.30 hoping to get the majority of the run done before the weather came in.This was my first time on the miners path and ...... its really more of a motorway than a path... mind numbingly boring.

 90 mph on the A55 with the cruise control on my mind wonders to the weekend ahead, I’m not keen on heights and the prospect of my first visit to Crib Goch, on my own, is playing on my mind. I wish that twat in the Rangerover would get out of the way and stop playing silly games. Refocus Dave, nearly there.

I’m trying out my new head torch, another eBay bargain purchase and its 1200 lumen, almost square, beam appears to be just the job. I can see much more of the miners path motorway ahead, my mind wonders again.

Fed up i decide to ignore the prick in the breeze block ahead and pull in to the left lane to undertake, a puff of black smoke from the car in front tells me the game is on. Under take performed and on the brakes. I look across and see the driver is a middle aged woman who has obviously had a hard life, so i decide to let her go. Its been nearly 12 years since i lost the plot this bad and it doesn’t feel good.

Finally the path starts to climb and the night retreats, up ahead i can see Snowdon covered in a dark blanket of fog. Ummm, Crib Goch in the fog, nice. I pass a few dozen “3 peakers” and push on; I’m getting into my stride now.

We left the A55 at junction 13 and found the car park where Debbie would pick me up at the end of the run on Sunday afternoon. Conversation was strained.

Snowdon summit was wet and windy, the gusts were becoming a concern so i got a move on, Crib y Ddysgi summit appeared out of the gloom and i descended towards the traverse across to Crib Goch, conscious of the wind gusting harder and the rain joining the party. Was this really a good idea? I dismissed this though as doubts about the coming ridge and my ever present fear of heights, especially on exposed ridges...

Debbie drove from here and the atmosphere in the car was thick, i could feel a headache coming on and new i had slipped from the path, it had been a while, it had been almost 12 years.

Crib Goch was living up to the hype, wet rock, driving rain and a gusting wind that was really starting to scare me. I pushed on following the narrow path, trying not to look down and scare myself silly, i scrambled over a couple of small rocky summits, remembering something i had read on the internet i new the summit would be close now and soon came across it. Bloody hell, how am i supposed to get around that thing?

I had as clamber around on the wet rock and decided the right hand side offered the safest route, off i go, happy that i will find the path around when i get down a little lower. Wrong. I couldn’t find a way around, the rock got looser and the wind continued to push the rain into my eyes.  Back up to the summit again and time to make a decision, keep looking for a way around or go back. I sat behind a rock out of the wind and decided to have a look at the map, i’m sure i could work out how to do this, I’m an experienced fell runner, I’ve spent so many days in these mountains doing this, all i need to do is keep it together.

We arrived at the bunkhouse, the atmosphere still strained, my head pounding and my mind in another time zone.

Unfortunately i hadn’t zipped up my map pocket and both map and glasses has vanished, oops. The rain was getting heavier and the gusting wing was not helping, time to head back to the main tourist path and down into Llanberis. Today was not going to be my time to complete the Welsh 3000.

The Mary Townley Loop

The Pennine Bridle Way - Mary Townley Loop is a 47 mile circular route which forms part of the purpose built long distance National Trail bridleway for horse riders (and their horses), mountain bikers, walkers and runners, this high level route encircles Todmorden, Bacup, The Rossendale Valley, Whitworth and passes close to Hebden Bridge. It crosses Heptonstall Morr, Black Moor, Worsthorn Moor and visits many of the valley bottoms.

On my travels i have run the route in sections and even managed the whole route a couple of times and it really is classic northern industrial landscape in all its glory. The route is well sign posted and the trails are mostly well maintained and easy to follow.

The plan is to run the whole loop, with a small diversion up to Studley Pike, by moon light and perhaps a head torch. It will be difficult to complete the whole route in darkness with perhaps the last hour or so at dawn.

There is a great web site which has plenty of good information about the route.

http://www.idonohoe.com/mountian_bike9.htm

When -  before winter sets in.

Fell running, also known as mountain running

Fell Running, Also known as mountain running and hill running, is the sport of running and racing off road, over upland country where the gradient climbed is a significant component of the difficulty. The name arises from the origins of the English sport on the fells of northern Britain, especially those in the Lake District. (Thank you Wikipedia).

Good morning horse

Sunday morning and Debbie and i woke early in the car, the windows covered in condensation and grumbling about stiff backs, i remember a time when i could sleep in an office chair with out ill effects, oh how times change. As usual, coffee was my first priority so i rolled out of the car into my running shoes and sloped off to the camping barn.

Dale Head

It was 7 am and I was the first to rise but it didn’t take long for the 13 people sleeping in the barn to come to life, as you would expect it was the children first closely followed by the adults. The night before I had convinced Denis an early run was a good idea but walking hurt so running was out of the question for him. Breakfast, more coffee and its soon 8:30pm, an hour and a half of good running time already gone so I was quickly on my way. 

Robinson

The plan, head up Robinson and follow the BG route over to Dale Head, return back across High Spy and Cat Bells. Keen as mustard and excited to be in the mountains again I rushed through the first couple of road miles and was soon ascending Robinson, 737 metres. I could feel the previous days training in my legs but pushed on to the summit feeling good and probably looking pretty good as well. :-)

Looking back

The view from the summit was astounding, stunning Lakeland hills draped in mist and a gentle breeze pushing the cloud through the valleys, life really doesn't get any better than this. Revitalised i set off on my way picking up the BG trod towards Hindscarth and over to Dale Head. At 753 metres Dale head is the high point of the run and presents great views of the whole horse shoe shaped route. The path winds down to the valley bottom and Dale head tarn before crossing the stream and heading off up to High Spy. At 653 meters i am back into the clag again. I take a few minutes to eat and drink whilst soaking up the atmosphere, i know what lies ahead of me and i want to be prepared.

High Spy

Over the next 2.5 miles i gradually descend nearly 200 metres, past Maiden Moor to Cat Bells, with copious amounts of peat bog and rocky crags to negotiate along the way. This is where the real running starts.

Derwent Water

I start tentatively, feeling my way, gradually getting faster until my legs are burning, my vision blurs and my eyes water, leaping over crags and landing on muddy paths i slip and slide all the time trying to maintain balance, trying not to twist and ankle or do the splits. Each step becomes a blur. My head in spinning and i feel out of control but i can’t stop, i push harder taking greater risks, I can’t process each foot placement, it seems to happen naturally.

Walkers step aside and let me pass; i wonder what i must look like, some mad man bounding across the fells apparently out of control, sweat running from my head into my eyes, arms flailing around trying to maintain balance. I twist my ankle but the pain blurs and i push harder. There is no control anymore it just madness and I realise i am hitting that runners high again. Now i am floating and it all makes sense, i begin to feel at peace with the world, i ease to a slow jog, smiling, high as a kite. Drugs were never this good.

Rocky bit

Cat Bells is full of tourist and reality creeps back in, today i found nirvana again and one of the many reasons i run. I jog slowly back to Keswick and meet up with my friends and partner Debbie for a walk along the banks of Derwent Water.